


her fall from greatness

by lancethewriter



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Book 4 Spoilers, F/F, Kuvira-centric, Spirit World, TW: Violence, kuvira gets the redemption arc she deserves, prison time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lancethewriter/pseuds/lancethewriter
Summary: Kuvira had been expecting at least twenty years, maybe thirty. To her dismay, Republic City's court sentences her to a life in prison. The idea of spending the rest of her days imprisoned is not exactly appealing, to put things lightly.She doesn’t expect any visitors. She can’t think of a single person who would want to see her. For all intents and purposes, her life is over. But when she finds the Avatar standing outside her cell, she comes to realize that her new challenges are only just beginning.
Relationships: Korra/Asami Sato, Kuvira/Baatar Jr. (past), Kuvira/redemption
Comments: 30
Kudos: 52





	1. a new life behind bars

**Author's Note:**

> Don't get me wrong, I loved Ruins of the Empire. But Kuvira's "redemption arc" felt a little rushed. I wanted to read more Kuvira content, but I couldn't find what I was looking for... so I figured I could write it myself! :)

_ “How do you plead?” _

_ Kuvira clenched her jaw, staring hard at the floor. Her hands hung before her, bound in chains. There would be no grand gestures, no glorious defeat for the history books.  _

_ That was fine. _

_ She breathed deeply and lifted her head to meet the judge’s gaze.  _

_ “Not guilty.” _

Her first mistake had been her plea—at least, that was what her court-assigned lawyer had told her. If she had pleaded guilty, her sentence would have been greatly reduced. She might’ve even gotten sent to a prison in Zaofu. 

Her second mistake had been getting her hopes up. Her lawyer repeatedly told her that she’d be “going away for a long time”, but she held firm in her beliefs. She had been doing the right thing. 

She really hated having a lawyer. 

After her sentence had been announced, a squad of guards escorted her to a van where she was unceremoniously shoved into the cab. The guards had led her across a stretch of road that was undoubtedly earthen—either they were incredibly careless, or they were just mocking her for her helplessness. 

It didn’t matter, in the end. She no longer cared whether anyone respected her, feared her, or laughed at her. She doubted she’d ever speak to anyone again, other than a prison guard. 

She had been transported to a prison a short distance away from Republic City’s outskirts, and she found the prison to be incredibly lacking. She hadn’t expected a five-star treatment, but she figured she’d at least be able to pace across the floor. The width of her cell was hardly longer than her bed. 

A pair of guards had grabbed her arms, marching her into her cell and cuffing her hands to long chains that were anchored to the wall. There was enough slack for her to cross the cell, but not enough so that she could reach the door. When they had turned to leave, she called out, “Wait, how will I sleep with these on?”

The guards laughed with each other and slammed the door. 

That had been two weeks ago. 

Kuvira was… adjusting. It wasn’t pretty, and she never thought it would be, but she wondered how she would ever stay sane in this place. The walls were a mind-numbing shade of grey—she had no idea what they were made of, only that it wasn't metal or stone—and her only entertainment came in the form of President Raiko’s latest campaign ad. She couldn’t vote, though, so she didn’t care. 

Her limbs were burning from the little amount of exercise she was able to get. There was no prison yard for her to stretch her legs, so she resorted to half-baked workouts in her cell. Within the first week, she had devised a routine of crunches, push-ups, and stretches. It worked well enough. 

She finished one more crunch and then hopped to her feet. As she brushed her fingers through her hair, she breathed out a sigh; she hadn’t been able to tie her hair up since she arrived. She had tried asking the guards for a hair tie, but they either scoffed or spat at her in response. She started wistfully at the lone window in her cell: it was painfully small, but it let in a soft ray of light that almost brought a grin to her face. 

Almost. 

Across from her window, Raiko’s campaign poster hung on her wall. She had folded it in half so that his face was hidden; she didn’t care for the man at all—she despised him, in fact—but the poster brought a bit of color into her otherwise dull life. 

_ It’s only been two weeks,  _ she reminded herself. She sat down on her bed, leaning her hands on her knees.  _ I’m going to be here for the rest of my life. I’d better get used to it.  _

The rest of her life was a long time. She wasn’t sure if she liked that or not. 

She was pulled from her thoughts by a dreadful  _ bang! _ , a sound that reverberated throughout her tiny world. When it came again, she realized that it was coming from the door. Someone was knocking. 

The guards never knocked; it was peculiar that they chose to do so now. Unmoving, she called out to answer. 

“Hello?”

There was a grating noise as a slot on the door slid open to reveal a disgruntled face. That was even stranger—she’d never seen anyone use the slot. She didn’t even realize it functioned. 

“You’ve got a visitor,” the guard said, not meeting her gaze. He sounded angry, though she wasn’t surprised. 

What did surprise her, though, was what he had said.  _ A visitor?  _ Her mind began to race as she thought of who would possibly be visiting her. Could it be her family? 

She wondered if she even had the right to call the Beifongs her family anymore. She supposed she lost the privilege when she turned her spirit cannon on them all. 

Regardless, she couldn’t help the way her heart soared—the thought of them coming to visit her was enough to give her hope. 

“You’ve got a visitor,” the guard repeated, clearly agitated. “Do you want to see her?”

_ Her. _ It had to be Suyin. Kuvira frowned, considering the guard’s question. Did she want to see her? After what she did, did she even deserve to be in the same room as her?

The answer to the latter was most definitely a  _ no _ , but she had made up her mind. “Yes, please,” she answered, and she stood up to dust herself off. She tucked any stray hairs back into place—she would at least try to look presentable.

The door swung open, and the guard wore a smug expression on his face. He appeared to be tantalizing her with freedom, holding the door open while knowing that her chains prevented her from grasping it. They locked eyes, and she glared at him. After several tense moments, he stepped aside, allowing her visitor to enter. 

She felt her heart drop to the floor, and she stiffened. The woman standing across from her was definitely not Su. 

“Avatar Korra,” she managed to say, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. She must have failed, because the Avatar offered a sympathetic smile in response. 

She waved awkwardly from across the room, keeping the required distance. “I know I’m not who you were expecting…” she began, her eyes fixed on the floor for a moment. She then met Kuvira’s gaze, unabashed in her friendliness. “Sorry about that.”

Kuvira blinked several times as if wiping away her confusion. She was admittedly taken aback by the Avatar’s demeanor; she was acting as if she was simply meeting an old acquaintance she hadn’t spoken to in years, rather than the woman who had recently tried to destroy Republic City.

“It’s fine,” she said at last, sitting back down on her bed. She noticed the Avatar’s gaze following the chains that moved with her. “I can’t say I was expecting anyone at all.”

The look that crossed over the Avatar’s face resembled pity. It irked her. 

Kuvira inhaled deeply, toying with the cuffs on her wrists. “Is there something I can do for you, Avatar?”

“Just Korra is fine,” the Avatar piped. 

Kuvira only raised an eyebrow in response. 

“I figured you could use a visitor.”

The answer definitely took her off guard. She almost recoiled physically, and her lips twisted into a frown. 

“You’re here out of some twisted sense of duty, then?” Kuvira asked, locking eyes with the Avatar. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” the Avatar protested, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m being kind.”

“I don’t suppose my--” Kuvira cut herself off and started again. “I don’t suppose the Beifongs share your kindness, then.”

“I get it,” she said, taking a seat on the floor. Kuvira wasn’t unaware of the height difference it caused. “You’d rather see them.”

That was true, though a visit from the Avatar would be much less painful than one from the Beifongs. Perhaps this was for the best.

“How, ah…” Kuvira trailed off. She had never been one to stumble over her words, but the awkwardness of the situation had thrown her off. “How are they?”

“Well, Opal is a little mad. Er, more than a little. Huan is back to art; he says the whole ordeal has given him a lot of subject matter.”

She let out a gentle chuckle. “He would say that, wouldn’t he?”

“Wing and Wei were actually open to visiting you. I mentioned it to them, and they at least liked the idea of talking.” 

“Let me guess,” she said, scanning the Avatar’s face. She already knew the answer. “Su said no.”

“Suyin is…”

“Angry.”

The Avatar shook her head, looking up at her earnestly. “Not angry. Just sad.”

That statement alone hurt her more than the past two weeks had. She was used to people being angry at her—hatred was something she could deal with. But she wasn’t used to disappointing people. Especially not Suyin.

The Avatar smiled softly. “Just… give her time. She’ll come visit eventually.”

“Maybe. But then again, maybe not.” At the Avatar’s puzzled look, she continued, “Su knows how to hold a grudge. It took her a long time to forgive her mother, her sister. And they were related by blood—she’s not going to forget what I did to her family.”

“You don’t consider yourself apart of her family?”

Kuvira exhaled. It might have passed as a laugh. “I don’t think she ever did.” 

The Avatar was silent for several moments. The sympathy on her face was clear as day, and it bothered Kuvira. “It must have been difficult for you,” she said at last.

She had heard that before. The Avatar had said it to her in the spirit world, after Kuvira’s weapon had ripped a hole through the material world. What was the point of repeating herself? “Don’t pretend to care. It’s demeaning and I could do without it.”

The Avatar’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly recomposed herself. “I’m just trying to empathize with you,” she insisted.

“No, you’re not.” Kuvira hardened her gaze. “You’re only here to feel better about yourself. Tonight, you’ll be home, happy, and I’ll be here, and you’ll never see me again.”

“Why are you being like this?” the Avatar groaned in exasperation. Kuvira laughed, but it was humorless. 

“What, are you surprised? I’m only giving you what you want.” She grinned, and it didn’t occurred to her why she was smiling. She didn’t know. “Won’t it be easier to hate me this way?”

“I don’t want to hate you!” She looked incredulous, and Kuvira briefly wondered if it wasn’t just a charade.  _ Briefly _ . “I just wanted to talk.”

“Then excuse me if I don’t believe you.” She looked away, and the tension that had been building between them dissolved--mostly. She was used to people lying to her under the guise of compassion, but that didn’t mean she liked it. It made her feel weak. “I’d prefer if you wanted something from me. That would be easier to deal with.”

The Avatar narrowed her eyes, and Kuvira noticed tiny movements of her jaw. She was frustrated. A moment passed, and she composed herself, taking a deep breath. Then she smiled. “I don’t suppose you’d help me with a problem?”

Once again, Kuvira raised a questioning brow. “A problem?” she echoed, frowning.

“See, there are some Earth Empire holdouts…”

“Holdouts.” 

“Yeah.” The Avatar shrugged, as if they were two friends discussing the weather. “What, did you expect everyone to give up once you surrendered?”

Kuvira didn’t appreciate her playful tone. “What can I say,” she murmured, eyes narrowing. “My soldiers are loyal to the end.”

“ _ Your soldiers?”  _ The Avatar laughed at that. “You do remember that you called them off, right?” She placed her hands on her hips; her stance was relaxed, unaggressive. Kuvira took it as a challenge. “ _ You _ don’t have any soldiers anymore. There’s you, and then there’s the ruins of your former empire.”

“I--”

“Besides, what would you know about loyalty?”

Kuvira’s eyes widened, and a pain blossomed in her chest. The Avatar’s words struck her in a way they shouldn’t have--she had burned all of the bridges in her life; how could she be wounded now, by someone she didn’t care for?

The Avatar kept talking, not waiting for an answer. “I’m pretty sure most of the Earth Empire soldiers conscripted against their will, so I bet they’re eager to be free from service, now.”

But Kuvira wasn’t listening. She kept her gaze trained on the floor, brows furrowed, bent over in concentration. She struggled to keep her focus as the Avatar’s words echoed in her mind.  _ What would you know about loyalty?  _

She shut her eyes and was immediately overtaken by visions.

She saw the day the spirit cannon was tested, though perhaps it was better characterized as the day she nearly killed her sister.

_ Opal.  _ What was Opal to her, anyway? Suyin had once called them sisters, but the girl had made it quite clear she wanted nothing to do with her. The fact that she was engaged to Baatar made their relationship all the more confusing. 

_ Oh, Baatar…  _

She would never forget the fear on his face when he saw his sister in the cannon’s path. She would never forget the desperation in his voice as he pleaded with her to give up her crusade. As she turned on him with the same weapon he had built for her. 

She felt a tear roll down her cheek, and she screwed her eyes shut tighter. 

And there was Suyin, the woman who had taken her in when her own parents didn’t want her. Kuvira had held her captive, tormented her family, and nearly killed her various times. She wondered who had wronged the other more.

_ You don’t know anything about loyalty. _

Kuvira became vaguely aware of her name being called; she ignored it until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away from the touch and opened her eyes, grounded by the sudden physical contact. She blinked several times to clear the fog, and she was met with Avatar Korra’s worried gaze. 

The Avatar’s hand was on her shoulder. Kuvira hadn’t noticed her close the distance. 

“Hey, are you alright?” she asked, voice dripping with concern. The worst part was how  _ genuine  _ she sounded. “You kinda checked out for a bit there.”

Kuvira shook her off, ignoring the Avatar’s annoyed frown. She got to her feet, chains clinking, and leveled her with a glare. 

“Don’t speak to me of loyalty, Avatar,” she snapped. “I’m not the one who ran away while the world burned.”

The Avatar looked hurt, but only barely. She sighed, shaking her head. “Maybe not. But you only stoked the flames.”

Kuvira exhaled sharply from her nose, and her vision flashed with anger.  _ Who gave her the right to take the moral high ground?  _ “I did what was right,” she countered, her voice rising steadily. “Everything I did was for my people!”

“For your people?” the Avatar asked, incredulous. She took a step forward. Too close. “Your people  _ suffered  _ because of you.”

“I made their lives better!” Kuvira snarled. She placed a hand on the Avatar’s shoulder and shoved her, hard.

The Avatar backpedaled--unharmed, of course--but the damage had already been done. The door burst open, and a pair of guards rushed into the tiny cell. They were armed with platinum batons. 

Kuvira raised her arms for a fight, but there wasn’t anything she could do. One of the guards circled behind her, snatching the chains that bound her wrists. Her arms were pinned to her back immediately--the fight was over before it had begun.

“Wait, don’t!” the Avatar shouted, reaching for one of the guards. 

The guard swung his baton through the air, striking her on the forehead, and she went out like a light.


	2. hard lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuvira recovers from her visit with the Avatar and finds something she doesn't expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to try sticking to a weekly posting schedule, so I'm sorry that I'm a few days late. I don't really have the time to be writing a multi-chapter fic but well, here we are! :)

When Kuvira first managed to blink her eyes open, the first thing she noticed was that she was laying down. She noted the stiff, uncomfortable surface beneath her that she recognized as her mattress. She was still in her cell--where else would she be?

She sat up and immediately regretted it. A needle-like pain shot through her skull, and she hissed through her teeth, moving a hand gingerly to her forehead. Gingerly, she pressed two fingers against her temple; a throbbing ache bloomed from the point of contact. She definitely had a bruise.

“Good. You’re awake.”

A deep voice startled her, and she snapped to look at the intruder. She let out a groan as the motion prompted another spike of pain.  _ Spirits, _ she thought, _ why does my head hurt so much?  _ She stared at the person in her cell. A man sat on a simple, wooden chair, gazing at her with complete disinterest. He wore a guard’s attire, but he lacked the platinum baton that most carried.

“Who are you?” she demanded, cradling her head with one hand. “What happened?”

The man frowned, standing from his chair. From her seated position, he towered over her, and the imbalance disconcerted her. “I’m your doctor. You’ve sustained an injury.”

“I get a doctor?” She was slightly taken aback by the notion. She was under the impression that the prison didn’t exactly care for her wellbeing. 

The man gave her a wry smile. “My mistake. I’m the prison’s physician. I look after all of the inmates here.”

That made more sense. “And how any inmates is that?”

“Enough that you’ve wasted my time while I waited for you to wake up.” 

Kuvira narrowed her eyes. “My apologies,” she said dryly.

“You’re awake now,” he noted, “so let’s get this over with. Stand up, please.”

“I doubt that’s the wisest idea,” she responded, grimacing. Judging by the pain that resulted from her subtle motions, she wasn’t sure that getting on her feet was a good idea. She frowned, recalling the events of the previous…  _ Wait. How long was I out? _ She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the Avatar’s visit, but at least she remembered how she had gotten hurt in the first place.

Of course she’d been hit by a guard. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised. She was, however, slightly touched upon recalling the Avatar’s concern.  _ Slightly _ .

“It’s necessary,” the physician said. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not exactly in a position to be uncooperative, are you?”

She wanted to protest, but she bit the inside of her cheek. She knew a threat when she heard one. “Fine.”

She slipped off the mattress and slowly got to her feet, taking her time to minimize the aftershocks. She noticed the distinct lack of weight on her wrists; she wasn’t cuffed. It would be thrilling if her head wasn’t aching.

The physician approached her without caution. He pulled out a handheld light, flashing it in her eyes. She recoiled, and he poked her head with a finger.

“What the hell?” She withheld a grunt of pain as she backed away from the man, falling to sit on her mattress. “Don’t prod me.”

The physician’s face remained as impassive as ever. “You have a concussion,” he said. “The only thing that can help is rest.”

Kuvira’s gaze fell to the flask attached to his belt. “You’re a waterbender.”

“I am.”

“You aren’t going to heal me?”

The man shook his head. “I don’t heal the instigators of an altercation.”

“Instigators…” Kuvira echoed. It took her a moment to understand what he meant. Her eyes widened. “I didn’t start a fight!”

He made a disapproving sound with his tongue, and Kuvira felt a burst of rage at the man’s sheer condescension. “You hit the Avatar, did you not?”

“I didn’t hit her.” 

“I’m sure.” The physician chuckled, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to lash out. She had to remember that here, she was powerless—even if that only made the whole situation so much worse. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?”

She grit her teeth, clenching and unclenching her jaw. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” His gaze fell across her one final time before he turned and began to leave without another word. 

Once she was alone, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Slowly, she raked a hand through her hair, careful not to disturb her head.  _ Great, _ she thought, letting out a huff,  _ just great.  _ She doubted she’d be able to move around her cell, let alone stay active. 

Maybe rather than exercise her body, she could exercise her mind. The next time food was brought to her, maybe she could ask the guard for a pen and paper. Maybe she could write a letter to someone.

Just maybe.

She lay back on her bed, sighing. Who would she even write to? She couldn’t–no, wouldn’t–write to the Beifongs. Admittedly, her heart ached for Baatar, but she knew he wouldn’t want to hear from her. That left very few options for a potential recipient.

She had left behind any friends when she left Zaofu; all had turned their backs on her, likely influenced by Su. Aside from her old life, she hadn’t exactly made any meaningful connections during her time as leader of the Earth Empire. 

Kuvira wondered if there was anyone in the world who didn’t hate her.

“Great Uniter,” she mumbled, pressing her hands against her face. In her quest for unity, she had isolated herself from everyone else. It didn’t matter, though, as the effects of her work would last. She had done more for the Earth Kingdom than anyone had in the past several decades.

She stared at the ceiling. Seconds passed, and minutes rolled by all too slowly.

It seemed like an eternity had gone by when she heard the approaching footsteps outside her cell. The door flung open, and she almost bolted upright before remembering her injury. Instead, she eased herself upright.

A guard stood at the door. “Dinner,” he said, a scowl etched onto his face. In one of his hands was a thin, wrapped block, and the other hand held a canteen. “Which do you want?”

Kuvira frowned. “Which?”

“Ration bar or water?”

Her frown only deepened as the guard’s scowl slowly morphed into something resembling a smile. “You’re telling me I only get one of the two?”

He nodded. “I’d say it’s awfully generous. I mean, you’re being treated much better than any of your  _ Earth Empire  _ prisoners.”

She felt her blood run cold. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The guard only shrugged and wiggled the items in his hands. “You’ll want to pick before I decide to keep both for myself.”

“This is surely against regulations,” Kuvira murmured, but she beckoned towards the canteen. The guard tossed it on the floor and pocketed the ration bar.

“I’m sure they’ll feed you much better at your  _ permanent  _ residence,” the guard laughed. “We can’t wait for them to take you off our hands.”

“Permanent residence?” She slipped off the bed, stooping carefully to retrieve her water. She made sure to keep her distance from the guard.

“Oh, yeah. I heard they’re building a special prison, just for you. Ain’t that sweet?”

“How kind.” She should have known. Dangerous criminals–especially benders–tended to be kept in isolated facilities, just as the Red Lotus had been. It was only natural that she’d be shipped away to a prison made for a powerful earthbender.

“Enjoy your meal,” the man said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He turned to leave, but before he reached the door, she called out to him.

“Wait,” she said, “can I ask you for something?”

The guard stopped walking away and just barely turned his head to look at her. The annoyance was clear in his voice when he spoke. “What is it?”

“I’d like some paper and a pencil, if that’s possible.”

“What, you planning on keeping a diary?” The man guffawed, shaking his head. “If you’re bored, try meditating. I heard you bender types  _ love  _ that.” 

Then he was gone, and she was alone again.

She didn’t mind being alone. In fact, she much preferred it over the company of the thugs that passed for guards at the prison. But she hated being dismissed.

At the very least, she no longer had to think of someone to write to. 

She gripped her canteen with both hands and unscrewed the lid, peering into the bottle. It looked clear–she counted that as a blessing, though she wouldn’t put it past the guards to poison her. Tentatively, she took a sip and was glad to be greeted with cool, clean water. 

_ “You’re being treated much better than any of your Earth Empire prisoners.”  _ The guard’s words bothered her; any prisoners she had taken were either conscripted or sent to be reeducated. Those that served in her army were treated fairly–even given the ability to climb the ranks–and citizens in the reeducation camps were treated with dignity. 

She shook her head. The guard was likely not of Earth Kingdom descent; he was only from the outside looking in. Of course he wouldn’t be able to see all of the good she had done. As such, his words were meaningless.

There was another thing he had said, though, that stuck out to her. “ _ Try meditating. You bender types love that.”  _ While it didn’t seem like he had ever had a meaningful conversation with a bender, he had a point. 

Kuvira had never been one for meditation. She didn’t much care for the spiritual side of bending: earth was much more straightforward than other elements like water or air. Her power came from herself and nothing else. 

And yet, there had to be some value to it. She remembered reading that Avatar Kyoshi had been able to bend earth that lay hundreds of fathoms beneath the sea. Kuvira was certainly no Avatar, but perhaps she could accomplish something similar by attuning with her spiritual side. 

_ To what end?  _ she wondered, capping her water bottle and setting it down. She took a seat on her mattress, crossed her legs, and straightened her posture. Even as she prepared to meditate, she contemplated the purpose. Would she expand her bending capabilities, try to reach for the earth beneath the prison? What then? Surely it would be foolish to attempt an escape, especially being so close to Republic City.

She closed her eyes, exhaling deeply. She’d empty her mind, for now. At this point, she’d be grateful for a small clump of earth to bend. 

Her brow twitched as she called to mind everything that plagued her: her isolation, her guilt, the loss of her family, and even the visit from the Avatar. Then she pushed it all aside, relieving herself of the weight even just for a moment. Her thoughts went blank, and she spent several seconds appreciating the blissful silence. 

Inhale, hold, exhale, repeat. 

She tried to focus on her connection to the earth beneath her—there had to be  _ something  _ close by. As far as she knew, the prison wasn’t designed specifically to house earthbenders. She strained to locate something,  _ anything _ . 

There was a tugging sensation at the edge of her consciousness. She chased after it, but it skirted outside of her reach, dancing away as if to taunt her. She felt a frown creep onto her face, but she smoothed it away and composed herself again. 

Inhale, exhale. 

The sensation returned. She reached out, trying to grasp it before it escaped her. She had never experienced anything like this. Was it the earth calling to her? Would her element respond to her, welcome her like an old friend?

Inhale, exhale. 

_ There.  _

She latched onto the unseen force, pulling it to her mind with sheer willpower. And in turn, it greeted her eagerly, rushing toward her like the returning tide. She gasped as a sudden warmth overcame her, and a slight breeze ruffled her hair. 

_ Wait, that can’t be right.  _ She frowned, breathing deeply. The air was fresh, warm, and it flowed gently across her skin. As long as she had been there, her cell had never had a draft. 

She opened her eyes and nearly gasped at what she saw. 

All around her was a world teeming with life. Grass tickled her hands at her sides, and the distinct scent of pollen hung in the air. She sat in a field of blooming flowers, buzzing insects, and birds flying overhead. The sun was shining, casting a brilliant glow over the already-dazzling landscape. It was vastly different from the last time she had been there, but she recognized the spirit world immediately.

To Kuvira, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. 

She could hardly believe her eyes. Unsure of herself, she slowly got to her feet, standing on trembling legs. Here she was, in the spirit world. She only had been there once before, and it was just for a moment. While she knew she would have to be careful, she was eager to explore. 

A flower petal drifted through her line of sight, and Kuvira opened her hand to catch it in her palm. It was a pink, delicate thing, so small and utterly mesmerizing. Then the breeze shifted, carrying the petal into the air, and she watched as it danced away.

She wasn’t familiar with the spirit world, and she had no idea how it worked. Despite that, she set off confidently in a random direction, content to actually  _ stroll  _ through the sprawling meadow. Pausing for a moment, she peeled off her socks and relished the feeling of the soft grass beneath her feet. Though she had only been imprisoned for a few weeks, this was the most free she had felt in years. 

She broke into a run, sprinting across the gently sloping plain. It felt  _ so  _ good to stretch her legs, and she found that her head injury didn’t bother her—perhaps it didn’t carry over to the spirit world. As she ran, she noticed a bright, blue glow in her peripheral. She nearly slowed to a halt, but decided against it; it was probably just a wandering spirit. Spirits were friendly, right? 

She ran for several minutes before stopping to catch her breath. She leaned against the stalk of a giant plant, panting; her lungs burned, and it felt wonderful. 

She pushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ears, and let out a sigh. She had no idea how she had gotten to the spirit world—she hadn’t even been trying to reach it—but she wasn’t about to look a gift ostrich-horse in the mouth. However she had ended up there, she was glad it had happened. If she had an escape like this, then perhaps there was a chance she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of her days in a state of misery.

Something zipped past her face, and she instantly recoiled, jerking away from the plant she was leaning on. She spun in a circle, searching for an assailant. She hadn’t been able to get a good look at it, but whatever had flown past her was definitely too large to be an insect. 

After a moment, she spotted it. A small, flying spirit flitted about in the air, moving in lazy circles around her. She let out a chuckle and eased the tension in her shoulders. It was only a harmless creature. 

The spirit looked to be a bird of some sort, small and round in shape, glowing the same brilliant blue she had seen earlier. It glided on iridescent wings, circling Kuvira and letting out a gentle trill. It resembled a dove, and she found herself reminded of her home in the Earth Kingdom. Well, what was  _ once  _ her home, anyway.

“You’re not so scary,” Kuvira said, holding out an arm to the spirit. It looked at her curiously as it moved, fluttering its wings before settling down on the ground. Amidst the long grasses, it almost disappeared entirely.

She knelt down beside it, careful but intrigued. Had the spirit been drawn to her, somehow, or was this just a chance encounter? Regardless, she was grateful to see someone—or something, she supposed—that didn’t despise her.

Tentatively, she reached out to it again, and the spirit didn’t shy away. It chirped softly, tilting its head toward her hand. She couldn’t help the smile that found its way to her face, and she slowly moved two fingers to stroke the bird's head. 

It warbled again, and as the spirit nestled against her hand, she wondered if perhaps she had made a friend. 

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the spirit changed. It turned a dark shade of purple, eyes glowing an eerie yellow. Its feet grew longer, larger, morphing into claws that ended in razor sharp talons. Kuvira recoiled as if struck, leaping to her feet and backing away from the spirit. She suddenly wished she knew more about the spirit world so that she would know what the hell was happening. 

The dark spirit shrieked, ruffled its feathers, and took flight. It flew in an arc before tucking its wings into a dive, making a beeline for Kuvira. 

She sidestepped and reached out to the earth, meaning to raise a boulder to attack. Instead of bending to her command, the ground remained inert and unresponsive. She let out a curse. 

Of course her bending wouldn’t work in the spirit world. Why would anything go her way?

Without any way to fend off the spirit, she ran. Ordinarily, she would have felt shame in fleeing, but she had no defense in this situation. She didn’t know why the spirit had suddenly decided to attack her, and she didn’t know the first thing about fighting it. A screech from behind her let her know that the spirit was in pursuit. 

“I want to leave!” she yelled, focusing on the energy around her. She hadn’t meant to come to the spirit world, and she had no idea how to get out. Unsurprisingly, her plea did absolutely nothing. 

The landscape had begun to shift as well. The previously picturesque meadow had darkened as the giant plants wilted and the grass turned grey, a shadow cast upon the plains. She trampled a flower underfoot, and it instantly reacted; the plant took on a vine-like quality and latched onto her foot, sending her tumbling onto the ground. The impact ripped the plant from the ground, and she sprang to her feet as soon as she was free. 

It was already too late. The rest of the nearby plants followed suit, morphing into vines that snaked after her. Something wrapped around her wrist, then her ankle; she twisted and pulled, struggling away, but to no avail. She fell back, trapped within a mass of vines. As she became ensnared in a web of sinister flora, her mind flashed to something from recent memory. 

The spirit vines. 

Actions had consequences. She had used the spirit vines for a deadly weapon, and now it was coming back to bite her. 

The bird spirit from before flew overhead, and her eyes widened as a low hiss sounded around her. 

_ “Great Uniter…” _

She froze. Where had that voice come from? 

_ “Kuvira.” _

Above her, the spirit fell into a dive, and it was heading right for her. Right before it hit, she shut her eyes, bracing herself for an impact.

It never came.

Several moments passed before she gained the courage to open her eyes. She breathed out a sigh of relief upon realizing she was back in her prison cell; she was in the material world again. But although the spirit vines were gone, her body still felt  _ heavy _ . There was a weight in her chest that hadn’t been there before.

Her head began to ache, and she buried her face in her hands. Whatever had just happened, she didn’t want to process it. She fell back against her mattress, careful to cushion her head, and curled into herself. At a time like this, she wished she had a blanket to hide behind.

The whispered words from the spirit world echoed in her brain. Her former title, which she had previously worn like a badge of honor, felt like a dirty word. Even the spirits knew it. 

And maybe they had a point. 

Maybe she hadn’t been doing the right thing.

It didn’t matter what she thought, though. She’d be here for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love exploring Kuvira's character--she's just so interesting.  
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated! Have a lovely day :D


	3. sanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuvira finds herself faced with an unexpected conflict or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I have time for this fic? Nope. Will I try to update weekly? Yep!
> 
> Sorry ahead of time for any typos or errors--I tend to not proofread, even though I should.

_ She was wrapped in an endless darkness. _

_ Her heartbeat was loud enough that it pounded in her ears, echoing across her silent cocoon. It drove her mad. _

_ A writhing mass moved against her skin, obscuring her vision and trapping her limbs against each other. Something wrapped around her throat; she struggled uselessly for air, but her efforts were futile.  _

_ “Great Uniter.” _

Kuvira bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath. Her chest heaved almost violently as she struggled to bring her heart rate back to normal, and her skin glistened with a layer of sweat. She shivered against the cold air of her cell, a stark contrast to her feverish body. 

_ Spirits, what the hell was that?  _ Her mind was reeling, still in shock from—what was she supposed to call it? A nightmare?

No. She didn’t get nightmares—not since she was young. She scoffed, trying to calm her nerves, but her breath came out shakily. Anxiety coursed through her in waves, and in this state, she didn’t see herself falling back asleep. 

Three weeks ago, Kuvira had entered the spirit world. For a brief moment, she had been elated; she thought she had found a paradise, a respite from her cruel new world. Now, she wished she had never gone. The memory of her short entanglement with the spirits left her rattled in a way it shouldn’t have, and it kept coming back to haunt her. 

She didn’t get  _ scared.  _ This feeling of dread in her stomach, the grip that tightened in her chest—it had to be something else. Anything other than fear, because she didn’t know how to handle fear. 

She reached over the side of her bed, fumbling blindly in the dark to snatch her canteen off the floor. A quick shake revealed that the bottle was empty; cursing, she unscrewed the cap and turned it upside-down. She gave the bottle a few taps, but only a few drops spilled onto her cracked lips. She mentally cursed herself for being so careless; the guards had been gradually giving her less and less of the essentials, depriving her of just enough food and water that their superiors wouldn’t notice. Or if they noticed, they didn’t care—she doubted that anybody did. 

She swung herself into a seated position, running a hand through her disheveled hair. It had been a few days since she had brushed it; she had to wait until her next shower to make use of a comb. Prison life certainly wasn’t glamorous, but if the guards stuck to the schedule, she’d be allowed to shower today. 

It frustrated her beyond measure, but she forced herself to remain calm. So what if they treated her with disdain? So what if nobody recognized her efforts, all that she had done for the Earth Kingdom? They could starve her, beat her, spit in her face. What did it matter? It wouldn’t change what she did, what she did for them. 

“So what?” she murmured, turning her canteen over. She fiddled with the cap, unscrewing it and pressing her fingers to the grooves. It kept her hands busy. 

It occurred to her that she was in danger of letting her thoughts spiral. She eased off the mattress, tossing her canteen to the side. It was made from cheap plastic, and it bounced off the bed and onto the floor. She was lucky it didn’t crack. 

Bending at the waist, she reached down to touch her toes, stretching her arms and legs. She hadn’t been able to properly exercise in a while—her head injury was mostly healed, but she worried that too much activity would drain her of energy. She was already starting to lose weight as it was; any more and she ran the risk of becoming malnourished.

So, she resorted to mere stretches. It was the bare minimum, really, but it got her through the days. The days only seemed to be getting longer, and the nights were worse. It had barely been a month, though—she wasn’t going to break that easily.

She straightened her posture again, moving into her next stretch, pulling her arm behind her head. She needed to stay loose, limber; there was no telling when a fight could occur. Of course, she didn’t plan on instigating anything with the guards, but she had no intentions of being defenseless like last time.

She paused in her motions. Her legs were spread apart and she had lowered her body into a half squat, arms rigid in front of her; without realizing it, she had slipped into an earthbending stance. Sighing, she righted herself and placed her hands on her hips. Her bending was yet another muscle she couldn’t exercise.

After a few more basic stretches, she returned to her bed, laying back and staring at the ceiling. She’d managed to calm down enough that she felt comfortable sleeping, but sunlight was already beginning to trickle into her cell. At any moment, the guards would be coming to retrieve her and bring her to the washroom. 

She wondered if the next prison would be any different—it was being built specifically for her, but that didn’t mean anyone would treat her well. If anything, she supposed that the guards would resent her presence. Although, if she was placed in the custody of the White Lotus, there was the possibility that they wouldn’t act with the same pettiness that her current wardens were known for. Ultimately, she despised not knowing her fate; she’d rather have it over with.

Footsteps sounded from the hallway outside her door, the telltale  _ thunk  _ of platinum boots pulling Kuvira out of her thoughts. She sat up as the door swung open and two guards marched in, both of them clad in minimal armor. Either they were incredibly careless, or they didn’t see her as a threat. 

Both guards looked momentarily surprised, and she suppressed a smug grin. She was already awake, so they wouldn’t have the satisfaction of dragging her out of bed. It had happened on more than one occasion.

“Let’s go,” one of them said, voice gruff and grating. “We don’t have all day.”

Wordlessly, Kuvira stood and moved into the hallway. The guards fell into step behind her, and she had to resist the urge to jerk away when one of them grabbed her arm. It was just protocol, but that didn’t mean she liked it. 

“I can walk by myself, you know,” she said, arching an eyebrow as the grip on her shoulder tightened. She earned herself a shove, but she hardly missed a step. 

The guard with the deep voice responded with a snarl. “Don’t speak to me.”

His partner, a shorter guard with a smaller stature, interjected: “Lay off, Den.” A flicker of hope sparked in her at his words; she didn’t want sympathy, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a friend in this place. 

Any optimism she felt was crushed soon after. “After all,” the partner continued, “you know what’s in store for her today.”

She faltered, nearly tripping over her own feet. They didn’t continue, so she ignored what the other guard had said and asked, “What are you talking about?”

One of them—probably the “Den“ fellow—swatted her on the back of the head. She furrowed her brows but stayed silent. 

“We aren’t supposed to talk to her.”

The short guard laughed. “Oh, alright. I’ll just tell you, then.” 

“That works.”

Kuvira grit her teeth. She wanted to shout, ‘ _ Just spit it out!’,  _ but she refrained. Her heart rate quickened, though she supposed she shouldn’t have been nervous. Whatever torment the wardens decided to cook up, she would endure. She would always endure.

“So, Den, the Avatar is scheduled to visit our friend today. Did you know that?” She despised the cheery lilt to his voice; he was toying with her.

“I did know that.”

Kuvira frowned. She had thought that the Avatar would visit her once and then never again, but it seemed she was wrong. The last visit hadn’t exactly ended well—she wondered if this was a chance to correct that mistake. 

The guard chuckled. “Well, I  _ heard  _ that she’s finally listening to the protesters and decided to take away Kuvira’s bending. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Her heart dropped to her stomach, and she stopped walking. Both guards crashed into her, and she moved again, legs on autopilot. 

The Avatar was going to take away her bending?

It made sense. Avatar Aang had once removed bending abilities from numerous criminals; why wouldn’t Korra make use of this power? Her mind reeled, and she suddenly felt dizzy. The hand on her arm kept her steady.

It wasn’t a common practice, but considering what she had done to Republic City, it was likely justified. Still, her bending was a crucial part of her, and she shuddered to think of life without it. 

“You broke the prisoner,” Den said, unfeeling as ever. 

“And she broke our homes. I’d say we’re even.”

She spent the rest of the walk struggling to come to terms with the new information. It was entirely possible that she was being lied to, but she doubted it. While she was no truthseer, she was an expert at reading people. The guard seemed to be telling the truth. 

An eon passed before they reached the washroom. When they arrived, she found herself slipping into the mindless routine she had grown accustomed to: she undressed, moved into the partitioned shower, and waited for the water to turn on. Within a moment, a cold stream of water sputtered out from the nozzle, and she stepped into the chilled spray.

It was cold, almost teeth-chattering, but Kuvira didn’t mind. She welcomed the shock to her senses, grounding her and chasing away the intrusive thoughts. The world faded away, the voices of the guards mere background noise, and she narrowed her focus to the splash of water against her skin. She clutched her miniscule bar of soap and began the process of washing her body. 

As she showered, her attention was drawn to the dryness in her throat, and she her thirst from earlier returned. Being surrounded by water certainly didn’t help. However…

She frowned, staring up at the showerhead. The water looked clear, even refreshing. It would be a simple act to turn her head and catch a bit of water in her mouth—it would be so easy. Shame burned on her cheeks when the thought crossed her mind: had she fallen so far as to lap at the tap water like a dog?

Instinct triumphed over pride. She parted her lips, fully intending to drink her fill, but she was by an acrid taste and quickly spat the water out.  _ Of course the shower water is undrinkable _ , she grumbled to herself.  _ I doubt I’m the first to try. _

_ Wait. _

She stuck out her tongue experimentally, tasting the stream of water, and a knowing smile crept onto her face. There was a metallic tang to the taste, and that meant the shower had metal pipes—clearly they weren’t well-maintained.

“One more minute!” a voice barked from the other side of the partition. She swore, gritting her teeth and squinting at the floor. Now that she was looking for it, she could feel the pipes beneath the ground. They were too deep for her to drag them to the surface, but she had no intention of doing something so rash. Instead, she thought on a smaller scale.

She reached out with her bending to chip off a piece of one of the dilapidated pipes. It flowed up through the shower and got jammed in the spout, and she coaxed it through the small holes until it was resting in her palm. 

The piece of metal was no larger than her thumb, though it may as well have been her lifeline. She admired the way it glinted in the harsh light as she turned it this way and that. Smiling, she shaped it into the a star, then a heart. It was childish, she knew, but she delighted in the chance to use her bending. Her heart sank as she remembered that it might be her last.

The water suddenly shut off, and Kuvira tucked the piece of metal beneath her hair, bending it to fit snugly behind the curve of her ear. One of the guards tossed a towel over, and she dried herself off before retrieving fresh clothes from a built-in shelf. Once she was clothed again, she arranged her hair to cover her ear and stepped into the guards’ view.

“Took you long enough,” Den snapped. She ignored him.

The return to her cell didn’t seem to take as long as the departure, though it helped that the guards were silent this time around. She supposed they were letting her reflect on what was to come. It was either a small kindness or a terrible cruelty. 

Upon arriving, one of the guards brought over the shackles on the wall and clasped them around her wrists. “Is this really necessary?” she griped, having grown used to having her hands free. 

“Of course.” The sardonic partner answered her, letting out an irritating, mocking chuckle. “We can’t have you lashing out at the Avatar like last time, now can we?”

Kuvira grit her teeth as the guards departed, sharing a hearty laugh between themselves. She didn’t have time to be angry, though—frustration was quickly replaced with nervous anticipation. The Avatar would be arriving soon, and then what? A shudder ran down her spine as she sank onto her mattress. She didn’t want to think about it. 

She reached up to grab the piece of metal she had stowed away and examined it in the palm of her hand. With the twitch of a finger, she formed it into a thin, long spike. It was barely larger than a needle; experimentally, she dragged the point across her forearm, and a well of blood sprang to the surface. Well, it could cut. 

She had accepted her fate when she surrendered to the Avatar, but she was fully prepared to fight to keep her bending. At the very least, she wouldn’t go down quietly. 

There wasn’t anything left to do other than wait, so she crossed her legs and took a deep breath. She wasn’t planning on meditating—that was an experience she’d rather not repeat—but a few breathing exercises wouldn’t hurt. Years ago, she had learned a focusing technique, and her mind wandered to the first time she had put it into practice. 

She had been young and hot-headed, and she never imagined that dance would be a good use of her time. Until then, the only dances she had seen were tranquil, slow-moving routines that bored her to death. But Su had asked her to join Zaofu’s troupe, and she was eager to impress, so she accepted. By the time the first practice rolled around, excitement had morphed into anxiety; what if she wasn’t good enough for the other dancers?

She wasn’t. The others had experience and were used to working with each other; Kuvira, on the other hand, was both stubbornly independent and a complete rookie. She often ended up tripping over her own feet or quite literally stepping on toes. Thankfully, her ineptitude didn’t last forever: she was eventually paired with another dancer for a routine who was able to show her the ropes. Once she got over her initial embarrassment of being taught by someone two years her junior, they ended up making a solid team. 

Of course, she hadn’t seen Yin in years; she’d been one of the few on the security force to stay behind when she left Zaofu. She was certain that if Yin didn’t come to hate her on her own, then Su would have slandered Kuvira’s name. There wasn’t a point to reminiscing—theirs was simply one of the many relationships she had destroyed. 

At the sound of footsteps, Kuvira shook off her thoughts and concealed her metal piece in her sleeve. After a few moments, the door eased open with a slow  _ creak,  _ vastly different from the typical, thunderous slam. Standing in the doorway with a friendly smile was the Avatar. 

As Avatar Korra stepped into the room, Kuvira felt her heart begin to race, and the easy grin on the Avatar’s face made her blood boil. How could she be so cheery when she was about to rob her of her very identity?

“Hi, Kuvira,” she said, offering a wave. Kuvira noticed that she kept close to the back wall, just out of reach. Smart. “How are you?”

The idea of exchanging pleasantries was unappealing, but she was admittedly starved for conversation. No one had asked her something like that in weeks. 

“I’m getting by,” Kuvira answered in monotone, leveling her gaze at the Avatar. “And you, Avatar?”

She shrugged. “I’m alright. And you know, just Korra is fine.”

She had said that during her first visit as well. Why was she so insistent on informality?

“Is there something I can do for you?”

The Avatar sat down on the floor, cross-legged. Hesitantly, Kuvira sat across from her, leaning her back against her bed. “No, not particularly.” She smiled again, frustratingly. “I just wanted to visit.”

“Again?” She scowled, folding her arms across her chest.  _ What’s her deal?  _

At that, the Avatar frowned. “Look, I know my last visit got a bit out of hand…”

“You could say that.”

“But I’m really trying, here.”

She was incredulous. What was the goal here? There was no point for the Avatar to befriend her. It was cruel, really. “Why?”

The Avatar blinked at her, staring as if she had asked a stupid question. Perhaps, in her mind, she had. “I know what it feels like to be trapped.”

“I can’t imagine you’ve ever been imprisoned,” Kuvira noted dryly. 

“No, I haven’t,” she admitted. “But the White Lotus compound was basically a prison. I’m sure you feel really alone right now.”

“So, what?” Kuvira’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “Do you expect to be all buddy-buddy with me just because you think you understand me?”

To her surprise, the Avatar hardly reacted. If she was bothered by what she had said, she didn’t show it. “You don’t have to defend yourself like that, you know. It’s exhausting to keep your guard up all the time.”

Empathy was a rather foreign concept to her, so to receive it from someone who had once been her enemy was confusing, to say the least. But she refused to let a few words of kinship waver her resolve. 

At this point, it was best to just rip the bandage off. 

“Listen, Avatar. If you’re going to take my bending away, I’d prefer you got it over with sooner rather than later.”

The Avatar’s eyes widened. She evidently hadn’t been expecting that. 

“Take your bending? What gave you that idea?”

Kuvira’s thoughts came to a halt.  _ Of course the guards lied to me.  _ They had planted an idea in her mind, and she had run with it. She had allowed doubts and anxiety to cloud her judgement—she couldn’t let that happen again.

When she remained silent, the Avatar continued. “I don’t know where that came from, but I’d never do that.”

She suddenly felt very, very foolish. “But… aren’t there protestors?”

“I’m not the type to let people influence my decisions.” The Avatar twisted her lips into a thoughtful expression. “Can I tell you something?”

“I suppose.”

“I lost my bending, once. Did you know that?”

Her face fell. “No, I didn’t.”

Korra smiled, and there was a distant pain behind her eyes. “It wasn’t for very long, but it was torture; it was like a part of me had been stripped away.”

“That…” Kuvira’s shoulders sagged in defeat. The Avatar was echoing exactly how she had felt when she thought about losing her bending. Perhaps she was right—perhaps they weren’t so different after all. “That must have been terrible.”

She nodded. “I can’t imagine inflicting that pain on somebody else. Nobody deserves that.” 

The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Not even me?” 

Korra’s smile was sympathetic, but it wasn’t so bad this time. She seemed genuine. “You've made some mistakes, Kuvira, but I don’t think you’re all that bad.”

Kuvira felt as if she had been struck square in the chest. She was used to being condemned for her actions, but the Avatar did nothing of the sort. She had given up hope on ever reconnecting with her family, but if the Avatar could see something good in her, then maybe there was hope for the Beifongs. Just maybe. 

“For what it’s worth…” Kuvira averted her gaze, staring at the wall next to Korra’s head. “I’m sorry.”

Korra raised her eyebrows, head cocking to the side. “You are?” 

“I believe that I was helping my people,” she clarified, “but… I do regret what happened to Republic City.”

A moment passed, and Korra let out a breath. “Me too.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, and Kuvira toyed with the hem of her sleeve. Despite the awkwardness, she had to admit that it was nice—having someone to talk to wasn’t so bad.

“By the way,” Korra said, “I mostly came here to tell you about the new prison.”

Kuvira nodded. She certainly wouldn’t mind leaving this place behind. “The one that’s being built specifically for me?”

“That’s the one.” The Avatar flashed a brief smile. “The White Lotus doesn’t tell me much, but they’ve finished construction. You’ll be transferred there next week.”

“I appreciate the heads-up.”

“No problem.”

A few minutes went by before the Avatar got to her feet, looking apologetic. Kuvira cast her a questioning gaze. 

“I’m sorry I can’t stay long,” Korra said. “Asami—er, Future Industries—needs me to help out with the reconstruction efforts.”

“That’s alright.” Kuvira gave her a half-hearted smile. “I suppose that’s my fault.”

“I guess.” It seemed as if she didn’t know how to respond. It was a stupid comment. 

“I…” She stood up, moving as close as she could before her shackles restricted her. “Thank you for stopping by.” She held out a hand.

Korra shook her hand firmly; when they parted, she reached into her pocket, and Kuvira quirked a brow. 

“I almost forgot,” the Avatar said, procuring a small, wooden ornament. “Huan made this for you. He asked me to give it to you, since he’s not really allowed to visit.” She held it out, offering the piece to her. 

Kuvira took it gingerly, holding it as if it were delicate china. “It’s for me?”

Korra nodded. “He said it was supposed to represent your ‘internal plight’.” She shrugged. “Not really sure how.”

In truth, the ornament was rather hideous. It was a gnarled piece of wood with randomly-placed grooves, jagged edges, and indentations, features rather common among Huan’s creations. It was terrible, and it was the greatest gift she had ever received. 

“Thank you, Avatar. Please, send my regards to Huan and the others at Zaofu.”

“Of course.”

Korra took a few steps toward the door, gave one final wave, and departed. Kuvira was left alone, but for the first time in over a month, she didn’t feel it.

She sat down on her bed, clutching the wooden ornament. Huan typically worked with metal, so he must have been dedicated to create something out of wood. It was a kind gesture, perhaps kinder than she deserved—but she was grateful nonetheless. 

As she admired her new—and only—possession, a sudden chill fell over the air. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.  _ Where did that come from?  _ she thought, narrowing her eyes. She begrudgingly got to her feet, moving towards the door. If it was some cruel trick on behalf of the guards—

_ “Kuvira.”  _

She froze. It was the voice from the spirit world, the deep, booming voice that plagued her dreams, and it was speaking to her in the waking, material world. That was impossible.

“Show yourself!” she shouted, whirling around. It was no use—the speaker was nowhere to be found. 

The voice chuckled, a grating sound that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.  _ “I am everywhere,”  _ it rumbled. Indeed, she couldn’t pinpoint the source; first it was to her left, then her right, but wherever she looked there was nothing. 

“What do you want from me?” Kuvira demanded, pulling out her metal spike. She brandished her miniature weapon as best as she could, but it was useless against an intangible foe.

_ “The so-called ‘Great Uniter’... You ripped through the fabric of the universe, and for what? Power?” _

Her blood ran cold. She was dealing with a vengeful spirit, then. “I never meant to create a portal.”

_ “You ravaged our world, Kuvira… It is only fair, then, that I return the favor.” _

“You can’t possibly destroy the material world, spirit,” she argued. Her hands trembled.

_ “No, not the material world…  _ your  _ world. I believe it is called… Zaofu.” _

“How…” Kuvira looked around her cell, desperately searching for something to attack.  _ It can’t hurt them. It can’t. I won’t let it.  _ “How do you know that?”

_ “Misguided child… I am always listening.” _

Her eyes widened as what she could only assume was the spirit began to come into view. It seemed to fade into the world out of thin air, a swirling void of darkness with a single, glowing eye at its center.

Then as soon as it had appeared, it was gone, and the temperature returned to normal. Her shaky fingers released the metal spike and she dropped to her knees, eyes snapping shut. 

It was too early into her sentence for her to lose her grip on reality. She ran a hand through her hair, clenching her jaw.

“Am I going mad?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can tell my writing got a bit lackluster here, so bear with me. I hope it wasn't too rushed, but I'm excited to get more into the plot.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!! Comments are lovely, thanks for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> Two things. One: at the end of Book 4, we saw Kuvira becoming a little unhinged. Two: at the beginning of Ruins of the Empire, she clearly still believed that she had been doing the right thing. I wanted to make sure both of these factors were portrayed accurately, and I'm really excited to incorporate them as Kuvira comes to terms with what she did. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I appreciate any/all feedback you can give me! I hope to have the second chapter out soon.


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